


To Save a Kingdom

by AugustIsComing



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Kinda fluff, M/M, Prince!lock, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustIsComing/pseuds/AugustIsComing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watlyon, John Watson's kingdom, is going through a big crisis. He only sees one way out: He'll have to contact the king of Holmeland, Mycroft Holmes, and ask for his help. And his help, of course, consists of marrying the young prince Sherlock Holmes to Harriet Watson, princess of Watlyon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Save a Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoomedTemperament](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomedTemperament/gifts).



> So this fic was written under the prompt "Prince!Lock. Wherein Sherlock and John are princes from diferent lands who fall in love while visiting each other to negotiate royal stuff." sent by doomedtemperament.  
> John is a king here, but it's because his father just died, so I guess it still counts? Okay... To be honest I started off pretty excited about this, but eventually hit a wall whilst writing this, so I'm not sure it's great.  
> I hope you guys like it, though.
> 
> (PS: don't forget I'm brazillian, so there may be some minor grammar mistakes or even typos, therefore, please let me know if you find any of those, so I can fix them)  
> (PSS: I don't know why, but I find it important that you guys know that I pronounce Watlyon as "Watleeon" bye)

John wrote down the letter that was supposed to save his kingdom with shaky hands, but the most perfect calligraphy he could manage. He'd usually have someone else to write it for him, but his father used to say there are some subjects to be dealt with personally. Besides, no one but himself knew exactly the magnitude of the crisis Watlyon was going through. If he could fix it without making a big fuss, then no one would ever need to go through what he was going through.

His father's (now his) kingdom, Watlyon, had been in war against the neighbour kingdom of Mortland for five years. After many deaths, and the destruction of half of the most important sites in Watlyon, Mortland's army had been defeated three months ago, but not without taking John Watson the First to his grave. 

Now, John Hamish Watson the Second was king of Watlyon, and had been left with the duty of saving his people from starving. It wasn't proving to be an easy task to accomplish.

Entire villages had been destroyed, and hundreds of innocent people had no home to go to. The king didn't have enough money to rebuild his own kingdom.

Which is why this letter was being written. It was a plead to the king Mycroft Holmes, of Holmeland, another neighbour kingdom. King John begged for a meeting, where they could discuss, perhaps, the union of their kingdoms, or, at the very least, some support coming from Holmeland. Of course his begging was very discreet, but he had implied that his sister, Princess Harriet, was single, and old enough to stop being such thing.

King Mycroft Holmes had a younger brother, Prince Sherlock Holmes. It was no secret to any of the kingdoms that Sherlock was a man of science, a queer young boy, with weird interests. He was usually seen as either a wizard or a crazy person, but John was desperate enough to ignore that. He couldn't know if the rumours were real, as he'd never actually met any member of the royalty of Holmeland, so he prayed that they were lies, and sent a messenger with his letter.

 

* * *

 

"I refuse to have an arranged marriage, Mycroft." Sherlock said, stubbornly.

The meeting had occurred, and, although Sherlock had not been allowed to be part of it, his whole life was bound to change because of it.

"Sherlock, don't be selfish. Those people need help. We can help them. This marriage will make things much easier. Our kingdoms can become one. They will survive, we will survive." Mycroft said, his expression blank, being accustomed to his brother's childish behaviour. "You are not a child any longer. You know their agriculture is much more prosperous than ours. This can work, Sherlock. You don't have to love her, you just need to marry her."

"I know how these things _work_ , Mycroft. But I am not willing to give up my life for some random girl. She will expect me to be home on time, and she'll want my attention. I can tell by her name she is dull and uninterested in sciences. Please, brother, be reasonable." The prince said, and if he didn't have all his pride, he might have begged from his knees. 

Sherlock didn't ever plan on getting married before, much less to someone he'd never met.

"You be reasonable, Sherlock. All you need to do is marry her, and have children with her. We need heirs." Mycroft was usually very cold and calm, but his brother was making him uneasy. 

"Why don't you marry her, then!?" The younger man yelled in a rush of anger.

At that point, king John had been lead to that exact same room's door, and walked in, not knowing he had stopped the rather rude answer Mycroft had been meaning to give.

He hadn't heard what they were talking about, so he had a small, polite smile on his face.

"You must be prince Sherlock, am I right?" He asked but he knew he was, as the guard by the door had told him he'd find both King and Prince Holmes in the room.

"Your majesty." Sherlock says, with an almost imperceptible bow of his head. "Your limp... It's psychological. The sword wound on your right shoulder, though, I'd say is what you should worry about."

King John crooked his head to a side, squinting as he tries to understand what he's just heard. "Excuse me? How could you know that?" He tightens his sceptre in his hand, feeling uncomfortable. He had thick clothes on, and no one but his doctor and family knew about his wound.

"I simply observe, your majesty. Like I know you just had camomile tea, with no sugar, and biscuits." 

"That is... Brilliant." John says, in awe. "How..." His eyes flicker between Mycroft and Sherlock. "Can you do that as well, your majesty?" He asks Mycroft, interested.

"Yes. But, unlike my brother, I know when it's appropriate to do such things, and who deserves such rude treatment. Your majesty isn't one of these people." Holmeland's king says, shooting his brother a severe look.

"Oh, no, I was not offended. In fact... I find it a very interesting ability." John says, smiling up at the prince.

"...Interesting?" Sherlock ponders on the information. Well. That's new. He'd been meaning to scare the short blonde king away with his "witchcraft", but apparently, it took more than that. "If you'd like, your majesty, I could show you more?" He says, because now he is the one interested in the king. Sherlock had fist deducted him to be a dull little person, more of a former soldier, rather than a proper king. But people didn't react to him like that. It was new and intriguing. 

"Well, of course! It would be an honour." The king says, smiling. "But weren't you two talking before?" He asks, now worried. "I didn't interrupt you, did I? How terribly unpolite... I am sorry. You two can carry on."

"Don't worry, your majesty." Mycroft says, and walks over to the door. "I'll leave you two to your business. I hope my brother remembers he is the presence of a respectable king, and he should act like so, though." At that, he leaves the room.

King John turns back to Sherlock. "So. I heard lots about you... I must admit I was very surprised to find you not to be an insane wizard." He says in a playful way, and sits down on one of the very comfortable chairs in the room with a low moan. His knee hurts, being his limp "psychological" or not.

"Oh." Sherlock says with a pleased smile. "Do the bad mouths still say I'm a wizard? Mind reader?"

"Things along that line, yes." John says with a blush, not sure if it was right of him to bring it up. As a prince, John didn't like the idea of being on a leash. He'd studied medicine and later on fought by his people. His father was strong, and he didn't expect to lose him for another ten to twenty years. When the former king had been murdered, John took over the kingdom with a fright in his heart. He didn't know how to be royal. He was used to running around with his friends, despite the fact that his father tried to teach him better.

"So..." John starts, looking around, as if a proper subject were written on one of those walls, or were to show up out of thin air. "Your brother says you are actually a scientist. What do you like to study?"

"A little of everything, really. I usually help the head guard to solve little crimes that happen in this part of the kingdom. I like to call myself a detective." Sherlock says, a pleased smile crossing his face as he talks about the things he loves to do. He likes this king John. He doesn't seem to care they are both royalty. He acts as if they're both just normal.

"Detective? And what would that be?" John questions, interested, leaning in Sherlock's direction. The younger man sits down by the king.

"Well, you see, "detect" means "find out", "uncover". A detective, would be a person who uncovers mysteries, finds out the truth."  The prince says, eyes locked onto John's face, wanting to deduct what was his opinion. "It's a new profession, you see. I invented it." He finally says, stuffing out his chest with pride.

"Oh!" John exclaims, getting closer to the younger man, wanting to hear more. "That's just... Amazing. It's brilliant, really. But how did you discover those things about me? You said you observe, but... Observe what?"

"Well..." Sherlock says, looking John over. "You see, when you walk, you have the obvious limp. But you also have this weird thing going on with your shoulder. Being from Watlyon, it's obvious it would be a battle wound. Probably a sword wound, and Mortland's army uses such weapon more than any other. So you had a limp, but your only actual wound was on the shoulder. Psychological limp, then. About your food... There are biscuit crumbs on your clothes. A little, almost invisible, don't worry, stain around your lips shows that you drank something. Judging by the time, and the fact you come from Watlyon, it's obvious it was tea. We have been drinking only camomile for a while now, because it's what we plant the most. Also, the tea stain would have been more noticeable if you had had sugar in it." Sherlock finally stops talking and takes a breath.

John is gaping at him, trying to remind himself he is a king, and shouldn't behave like that, but it's impossible. Sherlock is just... _Brilliant._

"You do realise you said that out loud?" Sherlock asks, smiling.

"Sorry." John says, and looks down, a little ashamed, but still taken aback in a way that doesn't allow him to care. "You  _are_  brilliant."

"I just observe, your majesty." He says, and gives his little bow again. He is flattered. "This isn't the usual response I get, you know." He comments, still smiling.

"No?" John is genuinely surprised. "And what is?"

Sherlock's expressions gets darker, and his smile vanishes. He unconsciously sticks his chin in the air, looking smug, and, in John's opinion, even more gorgeous.

"They usually call me a wizard, as you may have noticed." The prince's voice is already low and hoarse in normal circumstances, but in that moment it kind of vibrates through John, and he shivers. He can read the sadness there. The humiliation.

"Well. Some people can be weak headed." He says, and he wants to say "dumb", but he  _is_  a king after all. "I am sorry, Sherlock." The king says before he can stop himself.

Calling people by their first names is a sign of extreme intimacy, and usually only happens between family and old friends in royalty. John's eyes widen, as he realizes he probably offended the young prince.

"Ah... I-I am so..." The king stutters, and he knows kings shouldn't stutter, but can't help himself.

"Don't pity me, your majesty." The prince says, seeming to ignore anything else John said.

"I don't!" The shorter man says quickly. He likes Sherlock. He wants his respect, and he wants him to know he respects him. "I'm just sorry you have to go through such a thing, being as intelligent as you are."

"Don't patronize me, either." Sherlock says, obviously not pleased.

"I most certainly do not, Sherlock Holmes, prince of Holmeland." John said, and he had a way of putting all of his respect in that sentence, which made Sherlock finally smile.

"Good on you, your majesty." Sherlock says in a soft voice, his eyes shining up at John.

The king's smile says his "thank you" for him.

 

* * *

 

John spends two months in the company of the King of Holmeland, Mycroft, and his younger brother, Prince Sherlock. Mostly Sherlock, though.

He finds himself to like the younger man a lot. He is daring and surprising and extremely... Amazing.

John is constantly awed by the way he deducts everything and everyone, and by how many things he knows. 

Two days before his departure, they are talking in the prince's rooms. John had taken to sleep there, in Sherlock's bed, while the prince slept in a mattress by his original one. 

"You're going away soon..." Sherlock comments, sitting on a chair in front of the king. They are playing chess, and John knows Sherlock is gracefully letting him win. "It will be weird not having you around, your majesty. I grew very accustomed to your company." His tone is low, and he keeps his marvellous eyes locked to the chess board.

"You're marrying my sister. We will be seeing a lot of each other, I imagine?" The king says, smiling as he makes a move and watches the prince's face, only to notice Sherlock's expression is a little dark.

"I am sorry, your majesty, but I don't know if that's going to be possible." Sherlock says, and looks up at the king's surprised blue eyes.

"Why not?" The king is outraged. He needs this marriage to happen. His  _kingdom_  needs this marriage to happen.

"I do not know your sister, your majesty. I'd rather marry you, for you are someone I know, someone I deduct to be worth of my time." Sherlock says, his chin already up in the air. He'd always been a rebel. This was his way of sticking up to what he believed and what he wanted, and, although John usually admired bravery, in this case all he saw was selfishness.

"Are you insinuating my sister wouldn't be worthy of your time?" The king asks, his tone loud, and he gets up from his chair. He wishes he was taller than he is, but when he's on his feet he is only just as tall as the younger prince sitting down. 

"Don't try to intimidate me, John." Sherlock says, spitting out John's name in a mocking tone. 

"Don't be so disrespectful, your highness." John says, and his jaw is cracked so hard it seems like it will break.

"I do like you, your majesty. I am interested in you. I can't tell you I am interested in this sister of yours, though... You see..." The prince reaches out, and grabs the king by the waist, making him walk around the table so he can pull him closer and then whispers in a provoking tone when he is close enough. "She wouldn't be you, King John Watson of Watlyon. The brave soldier, the loyal king, the mourning son..."

John is so surprise he can't say a word to that, so all he does is watch Sherlock agape.

He doesn't have much time to do so, though. The dark haired man pulls him even closer, and he is kissing him before he notices what was going on.

Sherlock's mouth is warm and soft and John's hands go up to his hair, massaging the featherlike dark locks. The prince finds a way to pull the blonde man to his lap, and John is straddling his body, and he doesn't care, because his tongue is tasting Sherlock's and he could stay like that forever, and melt in those arms, and happily die right there.

When they break apart breathless, Sherlock keeps him in place. 

"I fear, my beloved king, that I care for you much more than any man should care for another man. But my kingdom does not agree with that vile book they call Bible. I talked to my brother... He said..." Sherlock stops his speech to breath in John's scent, looking for courage. "My brother Mycroft, he said we could get married, if you accepted the idea. I do not want to marry your sister, your highness. I want to marry you."

John exhales. He does know the Bible. The so called word of god, a book long forgotten by humanity. Only the royal families with old libraries still held copies of such book, but the kingdoms often used it to create their laws. And John knew what part of it Sherlock was referring to.

He hides his face on the crook of Sherlock's neck. 

"Yes." He says very lowly, but he knows Sherlock can hear him. "Yes." He repeats, looking up at Sherlock's face. "I want you to marry me."

Sherlock sighs in relief, holding John's face in his hands and kissing him again.

"Good on you, your majesty..." The prince whispers agains the king's lips, a smug smile spreading across his face. "Good on you."

**Author's Note:**

> So I do hope you enjoyed this little thing? I don't even know anymore...  
> Either way, don't forget to let me know what you thought of this... :) bbye xx


End file.
